


A Shift in Power

by AkumaStrife



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, I think the Kanima has a thing for Stiles, It can be read as shippy if you want
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-18
Updated: 2013-01-18
Packaged: 2017-11-25 23:01:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/643884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AkumaStrife/pseuds/AkumaStrife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With Gerard dead, the Kanima needs a new master. Preferably someone who <i>doesn't</i> want to kill people. Derek does not like where this is going.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Shift in Power

Derek moves as if to lunge forward, wound tight as a coil, but Stiles throws his arm out and pushes back against his chest.

“What the hell are you doing?” Derek growls. Stiles doesn’t look back at him, focused on the creature hovering over the dead body of Gerard.

The Kanima is restless, sometimes overcome by little tremors as it looks around wildly—trying to simultaneously keep Stiles and Derek in its line of sight—and makes a strained hiss. And… Stiles can’t help feeling bad, because the Kanima looks so _lost_. Almost scared, and so alone. Yellow eyes wide and telling; tilting its head like Scott sometimes does when he knows something’s gone over his head.

The Kanima doesn’t deserve to die, Stiles isn’t going to budge on this, even if Derek’s watching him with murderous eyes that flash red. Derek’s not _his_ alpha, and he’ll do what he damn well likes. Because it’s _Jackson_. Yeah, he’s an asshole most of the time, and has never given Stiles the time of day, but he doesn’t deserve to _die_. They’re all still just kids. Jackson didn’t even know he was being used; there’s gotta be some sort of amnesty for that kind of thing, right?

Stiles takes a step forward and Derek grabs his elbow in a bruising grip, trying to yank him back. “I asked what the hell—“

“Yeah, I got that, I was choosing to ignore you.” He grins over his shoulder at Derek’s answering snarl. “C’mon just trust me. I know what I’m doing here.” He actually has no idea what he’s doing or even if it’s going to work, but he’s trying to ignore that part.

He puts his hands out, showing the Kanima that they’re empty and moves forward slowly, one step at a time. The Kanima watches warily, straightening from its crouch somewhat.

Stiles stops an arm’s length away, grinning as wide as he can manage, trying not to be afraid—he’s learned from hanging around werewolves that they can smell that sort of stuff.

“Hey, I know you’re in there somewhere Jacks and I—wow um, please don’t kill me for calling you Jacks I forgot only Danny can get away with that. Now that I think about it we should’ve brought Danny, he’d probably do this so much better than me—“

“Stiles!” Derek barks and Stiles jumps slightly.

“Right, right, don’t get sidetracked.” Stiles laughs nervously and shakes himself out.

The Kanima stretches out its hand, and… wow, yeah, okay Stiles wasn’t expecting _that_. It’s almost hilarious that the _Kanima_ is friendlier than Jackson.

But it’s still just Jackson somewhere beneath all those scales. A creature who’s lonely, and not even Jackson should have to deal with all this weird supernatural mumbo-jumbo by himself.

Stiles steps in closer and passed the outstretched hand, instead wrapping his arms around _a friggin’ lizard monster_ and Stiles is wondering about his self-preservation or if he even has any anymore.

When the Kanima shifts, returning the gesture clumsily and its scales gradually fading in favor of patchy peach skin, Stiles lets out a sigh of relief. He can feel the look Derek is shooting him; probably a mix of irritation and disbelief.

“I don’t have any intention of murdering anyone,” Stiles says, just loud enough for Derek’s super hearing (he’d rather not startle the beast with poisonous claws currently wrapped around him). “And the Kanima needs a master, right? No way he can fall in with the wrong crowd.”

Derek grumbles something but Stiles stops listening because the Kanima’s tail is actively trying to wind around his upper thigh and waist and if that isn’t the most awkward thing to happen to him all week he doesn’t know what is.

“O-okay then! How about no. I’m flattered, really, but I’m not into that kind of thing so if you could like stop that’d be—or not, wow, um….”

Derek growls from somewhere behind him and it’s more Alpha than human, and the Kanima hisses back from Stiles’ shoulder, and he’s really starting to rethink his life choices. 

* * *

When Jackson finds out, he’s understandably pissed. Enough so that he slams Stiles up against the lockers, but that’s really nothing new so maybe that’s not the best thing to compare it to.

“Stilinski, you better be lying, or else you’re dead!”

Stiles flails a little, trying to extract himself from between Jackson’s fist in his shirt and the metal digging into his ass. “I’m almost offended, Jackson. This is how you treat your master?”

The look Jackson has as he shoves him harder is impressively terrifying.

“Okay, okay, too soon for jokes, noted. I didn’t have much time to think of anything better. I’m not going to make you murder people so I really don’t see how this is any worse than bef—why are you pulling your fist back oh my god please don’t hurt me!” Stiles immediately hunches down, trying to shield his face.

But the punch never comes. He peeks around his hand and is surprised by the sight of Jackson’s arm literally frozen in mid air, his jaw clenched in anger as he looks between his fist and Stiles, trying his best to move his arm. Apparently as long as he has the intent to harm Stiles, he’s not going anywhere.

Stiles grins smugly; he’s never letting Jackson hear the end of this. He sort of coughs and puts his hands on his hips, raising his eyebrows and gesturing to Jackson’s fist, the veins straining with the force of trying to bring it down. “How’s that workin’ out for you?

The fist slams into the locker next to Stiles’ head and he makes a decidedly very unmanly squeak, curling away from the dented blue metal. “Oh sweet jesus!”

Jackson pushes all up in his space, finger digging into his chin. “Laugh while you still can, loser. I’ll find a way to get you back for this, just you wait!” He spins on his heels and stomps off.

Stiles stays slumped against the lockers for a few moments before tugging his shirt straight, grumbling, “What is with everyone’s newfound fascination with shoving me against things?”


End file.
